


The Return

by Setcheti



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5449979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setcheti/pseuds/Setcheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra was pleased to discover that he and the old man who came into the saloon that day had a shared heritage in common. But they might have even more in common than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And this one's for Manda. Happy Christmas!

It was a hot afternoon in Four Corners when an old man, his compact frame showing lingering signs of the power and strength that had belonged to him as a youth, entered the saloon and scanned the interior with sharp blue-gray eyes from beneath a healthy thatch of silvery white hair. A smile blossomed on his distinguished features when he spotted the brightly-dressed gambler sitting alone across the room and he immediately headed for the man’s table. Ezra was lounging in his chair and playing an idle game of solitaire; between the heat, the absence of most of his fellow peacekeepers and the dearth of card players at the moment he had already considered himself to be taking a day off. The old man's smile widened when he drew near and he shook his head.   “Son, that game doesn’t look to me like a paying proposition.”

The deep voice was thick with an accent that brought a delighted smile to the gambler’s face, and he rose from his seat with a respectful nod. “It serves to dispel ennui, sir. However if you would care to join me…” 

“Don’t mind if I do.” The man made himself comfortable in a chair across from the gambler and signaled the barmaid for a drink. “I, too, find it too hot today to exert myself overmuch, but you appeared to me a man who might be as apt with conversation as he was with cards and that would be a pleasant way to spend my time as I wait for the next stage.” He held out a hand. “I am Zeke Tatopolous.” 

Ezra returned the firm handshake with one of his own. “Ezra…Stanislaus, although my mother changed it to Standish early in my life and that is the name I go by today.” 

Tatopolous smiled and shrugged.   “Greek is Greek, such things are unimportant. You live here, son?” 

“Why, yes.” Ezra was startled and showed it; most people expected gamblers to be somewhat nomadic and he could never before recall being asked if he lived somewhere while dressed in the colorful clothing that announced his trade.   “I…am one of the town peacekeepers, among other things.” 

“A man of many talents, then.”   Zeke raised his glass. “Here’s to the vagaries of the Fates.” 

The gambler raised his own glass in response, smiling in spite of his surprise. “To the Fates, then; may their shears not cut us from life’s tapestry prematurely.” Taking a drink, he studied the man across from him, his own sharp eyes taking in every detail.   “And to what does this dusty backwater owe the honor of your presence, Mr. Tatopolous?”   

“It’s just Zeke. And I’m actually on a what you might call a voyage of discovery, Mr. Stanislaus.” 

“Ezra.” He cocked a questioning eyebrow. “Perhaps I could be of some assistance to you in your quest?” 

“Hmm, you might at that.” Zeke pulled out a small carved box and placed it in the center of the table. “I have been trying to find a man who can open this without breaking it, it is an old family treasure and the contents would doubtless be of great use to me but I can’t destroy such an heirloom to get at them.” 

Ezra nodded and, with a quick glance for permission, picked up the box and carefully turned it over in his hands.   “This is acacia wood,” he said, running his fingers almost reverently over the raised carvings and time-dulled inlays of metal and stone. “And this lock…an amazing piece of craftsmanship, no wonder you’ve had no success.” 

Zeke looked hopeful. “You know something about such things, then?” 

Ezra nodded again; had he been watching the older man instead of the lock, he would have seen an almost triumphant expression flicker over the lined face. “I dare say I may even be able to open it for you, if age has not sealed the box completely.” He put the box down and reached into his coat to pull out a small leather wallet filled with delicate tools, then went to work while Zeke watched in fascination.   After ten minutes work on the lock he inserted a small, flat pry between the two halves and applied gentle pressure until he felt a slight give…and then he handed the box back to its owner. “I believe the honor of opening it by rights belongs to you, sir.” 

Zeke carefully finished prying up the lid…and then he beamed and began to root through the contents. After a few moments’ clinking and jingling search he extracted a heavy ring and held it out to the wide-eyed gambler, who took it gingerly. Exquisitely worked wings of gold inlaid with silver wrapped partway around the gold band, and in the center was set what looked like a crystal of some sort whose center filled with a shifting grayish-silver liquid. “My…my God, I’ve never seen anything like it!” 

The old man smiled broadly.   “These things are over a thousand years old, I shouldn’t think you had.” He himself had pulled out another heavy gold band, this one crowned with a broad silver thunderbolt inlaid with diamonds. As he slid it on his finger a sudden flash of light made Ezra blink, but when his vision cleared seconds later he could see no source for the sudden blinding flash and Zeke was simply sitting there beaming at him. “Go on, try on yours, Ezra.” 

The gambler hesitated, this time having caught the flash of something else in the old man’s eyes…but another look at the ring in his hand dispelled his misgivings and he slid the cool metal onto his left index finger. 

The crystal glowed with a bright silver light and a line of cold fire shot up from his finger to race painfully through his body.   Ezra held back a scream…and then it was over and he looked across the table to see Zeke watching him carefully.   “All right, son?” 

The gambler nodded and swallowed, then reached out a shaking hand for his whiskey; the hand stopped halfway to its goal when he noticed something different about the wrist and arm attached to it. And it wasn’t just his arm… 

Zeke’s deep voice soothed him before he had a chance to panic. “I’m making sure no one can see what’s going on over here, Ezra; just change back to your normal appearance, a thought should do it.” 

Alarmed green eyes met deep, wise blue, and Ezra swallowed again. _I want to be back in my own clothes_ … And he was; a quick pat to his red sleeve even showed his derringer rig to be back in place. This time he got hold of the whiskey and downed half the glass in one swallow. “Oh Lord, I must be goin’ insane…” 

“No, you aren’t.” Zeke leaned forward over the table and lowered his voice so that only the gambler could hear. “You’re just remembering who you are…Hermes.” 

Ezra started violently – not at the name, but because he recognized it as his own and hearing it brought up a host of memories that were also his. “I…I don’t understand.” He looked again at the ring on his own finger, then at the ring on Zeke’s. “Z-zeus?” 

“Yes, son.” The older man sighed. “I thought it was you, but I wasn’t entirely certain until you opened the box – we designed it so that you would be the only one capable of opening the lock.” 

“I…remember.” Ezra put a shaking hand up to his head, which was aching slightly.   “And the box itself can only be opened by you, we had to keep everyone’s godhood safe.” 

“Another genius of an idea, triggering the return by having each of us put on our ring.” His tone was approving, even proud; this next to youngest son of his had been the brains behind the tripled security that had kept the gods from returning before their time – and kept anyone else from using their power for other purposes. He smiled; he’d missed his family, especially his headstrong, mischievous children. “Just relax, son, and don’t try to process it all right now; everything will settle back into place in its own time. And in the meantime,” his eyes twinkled happily, “why don’t you shuffle those cards and let’s see if the old man remembers what you taught him, hmm?” 

Ezra’s eyebrows went up…and then he threw back his head and laughed. 

 

Nathan came in some time later and saw the old man laughing while he played cards with the gambler, and a scowl crossed his dark face. Stalking over to the bar he got a drink and watched the game with a jaundiced eye. “Damn gambler will just cheat anyone out of their money,” he muttered. 

“That would be inaccurate as we are not playing for any,” Ezra drawled smoothly, not looking up from his cards; he still smiled when Nathan flinched, though. “You are welcome to join us if you like, Mr. Jackson. Mr. Tatopolous and I are simply trying to wile away the time until his stage arrives.” 

The healer snorted but ambled over to the table. Seeing no money or anything else on the table save cards he frowned in puzzlement. “Hey, you’re really just playin’ for fun?” 

“And sharing conversation,” the old man said, glancing up from his hand. He smiled when Nathan’s eyes widened at his accent. “Mr. Stanislaus and I found we have family in common, a pleasant discovery for both of us.” 

Nathan’s face started to darken again.   “That ain’t his name…” 

“I beg to differ, it happens to be the one I was born with,” Ezra corrected with a slight smile. “Mother ‘Americanized’ it, so to speak, after she broke with my father’s family.” He winked at Zeke. “But Greek is Greek, no matter what the name. A very wise man told me so.” 

Zeke laughed and tossed a card into the center of the table. “And a man with a silver tongue repeated it. You have three nines and a trey, should I press my luck?” 

“Not with that pair of queens,” Ezra smirked at him. “I suggest you fold now and keep your six on the next hand.” 

The healer froze. “You admit you’re cheatin’?” 

“Not cheating per se, merely counting cards – and we both are.” Ezra winked at Zeke. “It is rare I encounter someone as skilled as Mr. Tatopolous here.” 

“My son taught me well.” Zeke returned the wink and Ezra chuckled. “I’d have to say he is the absolute master of the cards, they hold no secrets from him.” 

Nathan was growing more and more confused; he would have expected the gambler to respond with indignation to that statement, but instead the man was…blushing? And he got the distinct impression the two men were laughing at him but he had no clue what was so funny. Maybe Tatopolous was some sort of criminal come here to hatch a scheme with Ezra, that might explain it. The healer considered planting himself at the table to try to forestall whatever plan it was the two of them were cooking up, but he discovered that he really didn’t want to hang around the saloon any longer and almost before he realized what he was doing he had drained his glass and was preparing to leave. “Well, I…it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tatopolous.” 

“Mr. Jackson,” the old man returned with a polite nod. “I expect we’ll see each other again the next time I come to Four Corners; perhaps on my next visit I shall even have another family member or two with me. I have a grandson who practices medicine who would probably greatly enjoy making your acquaintance.” 

“Ah yes, I remember,” Ezra chimed in.   “If you locate him, Zeke, you must certainly persuade him to stop in for a visit so he might meet Mr. Jackson.” 

Nathan couldn’t help but smile at the thought; it still seemed like they were laughing at him, but he could tell that they were serious about the doctor in the family being happy to meet him and it made him feel good to know that Ezra thought that highly of his skill as a healer – and had obviously shared his feelings with Zeke. “Well, I’ll leave you two to your little reunion, then.   See you at supper tonight, Ez.” 

“Until then, Mr. Jackson.”   Ezra and Zeke waited until the healer was clear of the saloon before they let even the faintest breath of laughter escape. “Oh dear,” Ezra said, swiping at his eyes. “That was masterful. Did you ‘encourage’ him to vacate the premises? Because I saw definite signs of him wanting to settle in for the duration to keep an eye on us.” 

“I just nudged a little,” Zeke said with a shrug, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “You and I still have things to discuss and only limited time to do it in before my stage arrives. Nice job camouflaging your ring, by the way.” 

“It seemed a good idea; the design is unusual enough to catch the eye and the materials rich enough to cause suspicion – something Mr. Jackson has plenty of already without my helping him add to it in any way.” He frowned critically at the ruby ring that now graced his index finger, easily seeing through the illusion that covered the symbol of his newly-revealed identity.   “I occasionally wear a ring like this one, I knew he would notice nothing amiss.” 

“Quick thinking, that was,” Zeke approved, and winked again. “But of course, from you I’d expect no less.” He tossed his remaining cards to the center of the table. “Care to take a walk with me, son? I know it’s hot, but I could stand to stretch my legs some before taking another long sit in that infernal stage.” 

Ezra gathered up the cards and tucked them away in his pocket, then stood up and straightened his clothing. “I could do with a bit of exercise as well, despite the heat. And a short excursion would doubtless provide us with more privacy to discuss…family matters than we can have in an open saloon.” 

The two of them exited the saloon and strolled in companionable silence down the street and past the hotel to a place behind the livery and well out of sound or sight of any potential eavesdroppers.   Zeke dropped his illusion and the plain traveling clothes were replaced by gracefully draped white robes trimmed with gold; after a second’s hesitation Ezra allowed himself to switch back to the attire he’d briefly found himself wearing in the saloon after putting on his ring. “This would certainly cause a stir if we were seen,” he chuckled; the initial shock now past, the outfit fit him like a second skin and was surprisingly comfortable.   “My compatriots would doubtless be thoroughly scandalized, although I believe Mr. Tanner would appreciate the fine leatherwork.” 

Zeke laughed. “If he didn’t faint from shock; you rather glow now, remember, and no one has seen we gods in the flesh in generations.” 

“True…Father.” Ezra offered the appellation hesitantly, but it felt as natural as his new clothing and a part of him he hadn’t realized was cold warmed when he read the appreciation and acceptance of the title in the older man’s eyes. “Do you need me to come with you, to find the others?” 

“You’re a lawman, you’re needed here,” Zeus told him understandingly. “And anyway, if I have need of you it’s not like distance would be a factor,” he added, gesturing at the gold-winged sandals adorning the younger god’s feet.   “For now, though, just stay put and go on as normal. I’ll keep searching out the rest of our family, and some of them may even come to find you themselves once they know where you are. We always were a close-knit bunch and you’ve always been rather the favorite, if you remember.” 

“I do,” Ezra replied, a faraway look in his eyes, the green now shaded with silver. Then he shook his head. “But… _you_ will be back to visit, correct?” 

Zeus smiled and pulled him into a hug.   “Of course, young Hermes; I’ll return as often as I can, never fear.” He chuckled gently. “I’d tell you to stay out of trouble but it wouldn’t work, I know. So just stay safe and keep your eyes open.” 

Ezra held on to the hug until he heard the rattle of the arriving stage, then he reluctantly broke away and shifted back to the guise of a brightly-attired gambler. “If you need me…” 

“I’ll send for you, you know I will – you needn’t worry about being replaced as the herald of Olympus, you’re the most trusted god among us!” Zeus shifted back to Zeke and patted his next to youngest son’s shoulder with a smile, worried slightly by the tears his words had put in the green eyes but knowing questions and explanations would have to wait for another time. “And you won’t be alone here for long, I promise.”   The two of them walked out to the waiting stage and shook hands before Zeke climbed in and settled himself. “Until next time, son!” 

“Hopefully it won’t be too long,” Ezra replied, and then waved as the vehicle pulled away in a cloud of dust.   He began to walk absently back in the direction of the saloon’s cool shadows, smiling a little to himself. “Family, what a novel experience _that_ should be…among other things.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ezra had been slightly nervous for several days after Zeke’s appearance in Four Corners, but it didn’t take long for the assuredness that was his birthright to reassert itself – and the lessons in self-control Maude had drilled into him from childhood stood him in good stead as he adjusted to keeping his new and rather large secret from everyone around him. Other adjustments to the new situation had been much more pleasant; as Zeke had promised, all his memories had settled back into their proper places, so now he not only had power he also remembered how to use it. He didn’t do anything too drastic – not wanting to attract attention and also not having nearly as much power as he’d been used to of old – but honest businesspeople in the town began to notice an increase in their profits while those not so even-handed were troubled by subtle annoyances designed to point out the error of their ways. And while out on patrol one day he’d piled up stones into a small cairn beside the main road through town, marking the top stone with his symbol as a notice that travelers coming that way were under his protection; once that was done he could ‘see’ everyone who came down the road, which was certain to come in handy in the future.

Nathan had, of course, taken the first opportunity he’d gotten to tell all of the other peacekeepers that Standish wasn’t Ezra’s real name. The gambler had expected that, but the healer hadn’t expected the reaction he’d gotten – which was next to none. JD had thought it was neat and Josiah had peppered Ezra with questions about his father’s family, but the other men had just shrugged it off as unimportant. It was nothing unusual for a man in this part of the country to be using a different name than the one he’d been born with; once you came West, your identity was what you made of it.

Not that his friends weren’t curious about the other side of his family, though. Ezra knew he couldn’t share any stories of his doting, thunderbolt-wielding father who just happened to be king of the gods with his friends – not and have them believe him, anyway. His biological father, however… “Peter Stanislaus,” he supplied, smiling. “He was a younger son of a large Greek family in northern New York who had the misfortune to fall into my mother’s net while visiting the city. It didn’t work out quite the way she might have hoped, however.” Ezra chuckled. “The Stanislaus family wanted their son to be happy, and when he brought Mother home to them they lost no time in making certain she not only knew her duty but fulfilled it. She considered herself clever enough to worm her way out of almost anything, but she was no match for Peter’s mother, grandmother and aunts.”

Josiah scowled. “Cruelty to a woman isn’t something to make light of, especially when it’s your own mother.”

“Please, Mr. Sanchez.” Part of Ezra’s mellow mood heated into disgust. “Your romantic fixation on Mother and her charming manner blind you to her nature. My father loved her the same way, blindly and completely; but had the family matriarchs not seen through her façade and laid down the law I doubt I should ever have been born.” His green eyes fixed on the ex-preacher’s pale blue ones, reading denial in them, and his voice dripped contempt when he continued coldly, “It would not have been the first time Mother…put an end to a condition which she found personally inconvenient.”

The preacher hadn’t had a comeback for that – or a comment he was willing to air in public, anyway – but Buck had. “So how’d she get away from them, Ez?”

“A rather horrible case of serendipity,” Ezra told him. “There was some disease ravaging the area, it may have been scarlet fever, and Mother told the family she was taking me to visit her sister in Virginia until the epidemic had run its course. And we did go to Virginia, but the lady we stayed with was merely an acquaintance, and while we were there Mother received a telegram informing her that my father and several of the aunts had succumbed to the disease. She supposedly went to the funerals – leaving me in the care of our hostess – and after several months she returned and we went to stay with another acquaintance of hers in Atlanta.” He held up a hand when Buck started to open his mouth. “Yes, she lied – of course she did. But I had no way of knowing that, being barely six years old at the time, and no one else who knew Mother in that locale had any idea either. I did eventually discover the truth and make an effort to seek out the family on my own, but unfortunately my father had been dead for several years by the time I found them.”

That effectively put an end to the questions about his family – and Ezra could only hope it had dampened Josiah’s unhealthy enamoration of his mother somewhat as well – but once he’d returned to his room sometime later that evening he found himself thinking of his _other_ father, Zeus, whom he hadn’t actually met until he was approximately the same age he’d been when Maude had whisked him away from the Stanislaus family.

It had been a rather odd meeting, as he’d come running into the throne room on Olympus with his half-brother Apollo chasing him, had seen Zeus sitting there and had hidden behind his throne. Zeus of course recognized one of his godly offspring almost immediately and had put an end to the chase by picking little Hermes up and putting him on his lap. Where, recognizing he was safe, Hermes had promptly stuck out his tongue at the golden god of light and music, whose response had been to pour out his grievance to his father – missing cows, a whole herd of them – and then return the gesture in kind. Their father had laughed so hard his throne shook. “Boys,” he’d scolded. “You are brothers, you must make peace with each other. Now Hermes, where are Apollo’s cows and were you planning to give them back?”

“They are safely hidden and yes, I was,” he’d answered truthfully. “I am not a thief, Father.”

“You most certainly are!” Apollo had insisted loudly. “You stole my cows!”

“I _hid_ your cows,” Hermes had corrected primly. “My mother and I live in a cave, where are we going to keep a herd of cows? I just needed to get your attention so you would open the way onto Olympus for me.” He’d squirmed around to look up at his father. “My mother told me we had to stay in the cave for years and years if we wanted to live because I was your son. I wanted to ask you what I did wrong to make you hate my mother and I so much that we have to be imprisoned in a dark little hole to escape being killed.”

The entire hall had fallen silent at the plaintive question. Zeus had ruffled his hair and looked into his eyes. “Nothing,” he’d rumbled unevenly. “You have done nothing, my son, nor has your mother.” Then he’d turned a face full of rage on his wife, who’d quailed. “It appears word of your jealousy has indeed gotten around,” he’d intoned, and thunder had rumbled in the hall. “Does it make you feel better to be known as a goddess who kills her husband’s children, as a true daughter of Cronus?”

She’d blanched, but tried to defend herself. “I am your _queen_! You dishonor me, dallying with them, siring children on them…”

“They are _mortals_ ,” Zeus had interrupted sharply. “Compared to our existence, their lives are a mere flicker of flame waiting for a breath of wind to blow it out. You will be my queen for eternity, your jealousy is unworthy of you – and it will cease, do you understand me? No more of my children are to cringe in darkness for fear of you.” He’d fingered a thunderbolt, looking around the frozen hall. “That goes for the rest of you as well. Punish arrogance, or greed, or any of the rest of the ills visited upon mankind by the foolishness of Pandora as you like, but the innocent you will leave unmolested or answer to me and face punishment of your own.”

Thunder had rumbled in the hall again, and Ezra recalled taking a look around at the shocked faces of his aunts, uncles, brothers and sisters before looking back up at his father in awe. Zeus had told him much later – hundreds of years later, as a matter of fact – that it was that moment, that look, which had won him full immortality. “You weren’t afraid, little Hermes,” his father had said, smiling, a faraway look in his eyes. “So small, only half a god, sitting on the lap of a furious king shaking a thunderbolt at his family…and you looked at me like I was the most wonderful thing you’d ever seen in your life. I wanted to keep you forever.” Zeus’ smile had widened. “So I did.”

Ezra slept very well that night, as he had every night since Zeke Tatopolous had arrived in Four Corners, secure in the knowledge that his father loved him and he would no doubt be reconnected with his godly family once again sooner rather than later. And as for his mortal mother...well, he was technically her god as well as her son, so if she happened to come to visit him again he'd at least be able to stop her from doing any damage to the town or his friends. Or at least, he hoped he would. There was only so much even the gods could do, after all.


End file.
